


Keys

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:57:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mads can't seem to find his hotel room keys so he has to stay the night at Hugh's room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Mads, stop acting like a five year old," I laugh. "Not only are you making an ass outta yourself, you're also gonna wake up about everyone on this floor."  
You laugh through your nose, trying to light a cigarette but I snap it out of your hand. "Nah-uh, you ain't gonna smoke out here. Do it in your room."  
But you just wink at me. "Dear Hugh."  
I raise my eyebrows, looking at him.  
"Be a little..." You stop, looking for the right word to critizise me with. "Cooler."  
I sigh, smiling. "Yeah, right. Look, I gotta be up at seven tomorrow morning. So do you. Good night." Wow, that sounded more pissed off than I had intended it to.  
"Alright, alright." Your accent has intensified with the amount of alcohol in your veins. You look for your keys. First in your jeans, then in your jacket. Then, you seem to remember something. "Gimme my keys."  
"Wha- I don't have them."  
"I fucking GAVE them to you at the bar. Because YOU said I shouldn't have them on me 'cause according to you I was going to drive which I neither planned on doing nor would've been a good idea. Just fucking check your pockets. I don't even care. I'll sleep right here if I have to." With your chin, you point at an old, polstered chair at the end of the floor. "And it'll be your fault if you don't find my keys."  
"That's no reason to start bitchin' 'round." I reach into my pockets. "Not in here." I raise my hands in defense. "But I honestly don't remember you handing them to me. Seriously, you have to have them."  
"What about your jacket?"  
"Yeah, what 'bout my jacket?"  
You click your tongue. "My keys."  
I check my jacket for any keys. "Nope."  
"Look again."  
"I'm telling you, you have to have them." You're starting to get real pissed, I can tell by the look of your face. Which is not very hard right now by the way.  
"Ah, this is just great." You run your hand over your face. "What do you suggest we do?"  
I give you an ironic smile. "I suggest I go get rest and you sleep here in your chair as planned."  
"Fuck off. Do you think I could still go ask the check-in woman? I mean, they could help me for sure, right?"  
"Yeah for sure. Exactly. Go ring that desk bell at fucking-" I peer at my watch. "5:06 in the morning."  
"I'll stay at your room, then." You walk past me to my suite. "After all, this is your fault."  
"I seriously never really thought you could be that unbearably annoying. I don't know, okay? Maybe I got your dumb keys but I obviously do not have them on me ANYMORE so would you please stop blaming me for whatever pain in the ass it is you are so pissed off about? Thank you." I unlock the door to room B402. You don't reply. Arrogant fucking asshole.


	2. Chapter 2

After I've taken a piss I get rid of my uncomfortable jeans and slump onto the bed in boxers and the shirt I've been wearing before. I hear your slow, steady breaths from the other side of the king sized bed and try to lay as far away from you as I possibly can. I close my eyes, trying to shut out your presence.  
"Hugh?"  
"Mh?" I do not turn around.  
"I'm sorry. I'm also drunk."  
"Yeah, I've noticed that." I have to smile.   
Agreeable silence. "I'm truly sorry. It's just strange times, you know?" You breath out.   
I frown. "Have you been sad again?"   
You let me wait for a couple seconds. "Sometimes."  
"Man, that sucks. I'm sorry."   
You don't answer.   
"Anything I can help you with?"  
"Nah, it's just this job and the hectic and the people and the money and the press. It's... wearing." You clear your throat.  
I'm surprised at your frankness. "I think you should do therapy again."  
"Screw that. All I need is a break. And I shouldn't drink and I should stop smoking 'cause of the kids and I should go back home for a while."  
"I think I know as well as you that you're not going to do any of these things."  
You laugh. "Do you have those days, too? You get on set and see these dozens of people and for a moment you're just like," you laugh again, "'Wow, go fuck yourselves.'"  
"Of course I do. Everyone does." I shrug. "I think it's normal to feel like that from time to time."  
"But what if you feel that way every single day? Why would someone still hold on to something that sucks them out and gives back so little?"   
"It gives you money and appreciation, I guess."  
"Which I neither need nor want."  
"Get a new one."  
"You can't just do that." Then you mutter: "Think of my children."  
"Now is it the job we're talking or your marriage?" Even though you can't see my face, I raise an eyebrow.  
"Um..." You clear your throat again. "Both, maybe?"  
"As I said," I frown. "Get a new one. You need a change if you don't feel healthy."  
"Yes," you say unconvincedly. "Maybe." You sigh. I can hear you wrapping yourself up in the sheets.   
"You know, I'd love to help you but there's simply nothing more for me to say about that. I said so much the last time and all you did was palm me off with excuses why you either had to or couldn't do anything." I pause. "You're a face-saver."   
"I am." Your voice is soft.  
A few minutes later your arm around my chest jerks me out of the half-sleep I had managed to slip into. I tense up. This is just too strange and new. Behind me, I feel you nuzzling your face into my back, right in between my shoulder blades. I feel blood rushing into my head.   
Do I really want you to be that close?   
You chuckle, proving me that you're still awake. Good.   
You move closer as I'm starting to relax. Your whole body pressed against my back makes me swallow excitedly. I smell your strong aftershave, mixed with smoke and alcohol.   
Your arm around my body moves as your hand searches for mine. I grab it and press it against my chest. Oh. Great idea, Dancy. This way he sure won't feel how fast he makes your heart beat, you genius.  
Now your nose is behind my ear and your breaths are hot and thrilling. You bury your face in my hair and inhale.   
I want to laugh, to say anything, perhaps something like 'Did you just smell me?' to defuse the whole situation but I can't and I'm afraid you will stop whatever it is you're doing.


	3. Chapter 3

"This is nice," you whisper playfully.  
"It is?" I turn around, challenging you. Your arm slips from my chest onto the matress as you look straight into my eyes.  
"You are a very sweet man, Hugh." You smile. "I appreciate what you are doing for me. Or trying to do, at least."  
"I wouldn't want you to feel alone. And I know you're in need of a friend."  
"Of a friend?" Your smile and the dim light make the lines around your eyes look deeper, your small, attentive brown eyes examining my face.  
"Obviously you're in need of me and of whatever you think I am," I raise an eyebrow and one corner of my mouth in a teasing smile. "This is pretty... intimate."  
"And does that bother you?" You draw your eyebrows together, a questioning wrinkle furrowing your forhead. I notice the small gouge on the bridge of your nose. I've always wondered where that came from. But I just smile.  
"Well, I broke ground. Now it's your turn." And with a wink and a smirk, you turn around and cover yourself in the white hotel blanket.  
I stare at your back in perplexion. Then, a broad grin steals onto my mouth. "You're full of brazenness and surprises."  
An amused snort is the only answer I get. 

When we get up at seven, no word is exchanged. Not that we're awkward or the situation tense, it's simply freaking seven in the morning and my head pounds like hell. That's why I don't even want to imagine what yours has to feel like.  
We arrive on set on time, slip into our costumes and the make-up room. 

It feels like yesterday's talk has changed absolutely nothing between us except that maybe you're looking at me a little more often now, always jerking your gaze away when I notice. I have to smile at the thought of making you nervous. That's just not characteristical for you at all and I know you are well aware of this. A small triumph that causes me to internally grow a few inches.   
So at break I make sure to touch your hand for just a few nano seconds longer than usual as I hand you a coffee, my eyes forcing you to look at me. You get my message, suck your cheeks in and click your tongue. This is what Bryan calls Hannibal's 'I'm too manipulative to admit it but you took me by surprise'-face.   
"So," I take a sip of coffee. "How's your head?"  
"Unnecessarily heavy."  
"Too bad. I was about to ask you if you wanted to grab a beer or two after we're done here."  
"Plan to get me impetuous again?" you smirk.  
"You started this. I didn't in any way make you impetuous."  
"So?" You slightly tilt your head.  
"So I think you should come to the bar with me."   
"I'll think about it." With a friendly smile you turn around, headed back to the others.  
Stupid bastard. I smile again.


End file.
